The Coterie
by ThatClerk
Summary: In a world so separate from real society -where the occult is law- Diana Weir has to come to terms with the powers she's been given and try to solve the mystery of her bloodline. She is not alone though. But within this sisterhood, there is a rat. Can she survive the Coterie?


There are so many other places that I would rather be than here right now. Under the scrutiny of a school of eyes, Belinda pushes me to the ground of the cafeteria room and calls me a "Fucking Freak". What did I ever do to her? I've never hurt her before, never said anything terrible. Yet, she makes it her goal in life to be the curse in mine. What was worse was that Belinda was younger than I was; yet she had as much command over me and my feelings as a superior. I should hate her right now; I should say that there is nothing wrong with me. But instead a part of me agrees. A part of me secretly begins to hate myself. I wonder what kind of monster she sees when she glares into my eyes. The revulsion I see swirling in hers make it hard for me to get any words out.

"This is why no one wants you!" she spits at me and everyone oohs. Shut up, shut up. "What kind of family would want to adopt damaged goods like you? You don't even talk!" Shut your Goddamn mouth. "Do you even have anything going on in that little head of yours?" she asks, laughing patronizingly. "I mean… I've seen "people" like you before but I had to pay admission first!" and then everyone laughs. I feel the anger convulsing in the bottom of my stomach, bubbling up my throat, threatening me to speak. "Well, little cry baby. Are you gonna shed a t-"

"Shut your mouth!" I scream at her, feeling the hot fury that had been building up leave me. Her eyes widen, and at first I thought she'd laugh but then her lips turn down in a wide frown. It looks like bile has risen to her mouth, as her cheeks bulb out. She reaches into her jaws slowly, her eyes wide with fear and I just know, I just know that I've done something horrific this time. She pulls out what seems to be a thick piece of pink gelatine, covered in red. But when she screams, and I see all the blood on her teeth, I recognize the piece of aspic to be her tongue. After that the world around me shakes with chaos as her shriek blasts through the room and into the hallways.

"Did you see that?!" I hear a kid utter.

"She must be some kind of mutant, she cut Belinda's tongue!" another shouted.

"God, all that blood," another one murmured.

"How did she do it? Can she do that to us?" after someone said that, kids on the tables closest to me scrambled away, like an injured animal, looking at me like I was the predator. Sister Joanne runs into the room, looking around for the origins of the blood-curdling scream. She runs towards Belinda and spins her around to face her. All she does is cover her mouth and look at me in a mixture of shock and absolute horror. I find it kind of strange how she knew I was the culprit. Maybe it was because this wasn't the first time this had happened but still… I had never done something like this.

"Sister Lee, get this girl to the infirmary!" she orders. "Sister Annabelle, call 911!"

The sister grabs Belinda and rushes her through the two main doors out of the cafeteria room.

"All of you, this is an evacuation! Form in your groups and make your way in an orderly line to your rooms!" instructs Sister Joanne. The children comply, rushing up from their seats like at any moment I would attack. When I try to stand up, Sister Joanna raised her hand and says, "Don't you dare move, Baphomet!" she does the sign of the cross and kisses the dull silver cross that hangs around her neck. It takes me a moment to realize she thought I was the devil… or some evil incarnate. Fear, cold and deafening spread over me, what was she going to do with me now?

I didn't look into her beady black eyes as they glared into me. Instead I focused on the blood that covered the floor in front of her feet. It had lost its red sheen, and was now a dark maroon, like wine as it dried on the grey linoleum tiles. I hear the main doors flap open as two busy little feet moved towards us.

"Sister, what should we do with her? We can't… keep her. She might injure another child!" says the shrill, nervous voice, I believe it was Sister Keats. I wouldn't hurt someone else; I didn't even mean to hurt Belinda. I just wanted her stop. Who would believe me? I thought. This contemplation made me feel so helpless, I wanted to cry. Maybe I wanted to hurt her… maybe that's why it happened. When I saw her face, the panic in her eyes, I felt good for a moment. She had stopped talking after all. But when I saw the blood - my heart rises to my throat- I had never felt guilt like that in my life.

"Get Mother Superior… get her now," said Sister Joanna in a low voice. I tried swallowing my fear, but it would not rest. Would I go to jail? Could they prove that I was the one who did it? I mean there were witnesses, but what did they actually see? All I did was tell Belinda to be quiet; I didn't lay a finger on her. But, the whole group-home believes I did do it, even I think I did it. Would that be enough? These questions batted around my mind until a voice called me out of my trance.

"Diana? Diana Warne?" I look up into two blue eyes peering worriedly at me. It was Mother Superior, I recognized her from the photograph by the entrance of the home. She holds out her hand and I take it, to the dismay of Sister Joanna, whose eyes are bulging from her head like two black marbles.

"Come with me," she says calmly and I follow her out of the cafeteria, up a set of stairs and down a narrow hall. At the end of the hall there is an empty cell and she tells me to wait inside.

"How long?" I ask, and she motions me to be quiet.

"If another Sister hears us, I won't be able to explain this. Please just wait, I'll be as quick as possible," she reassures me and she ducks out of the room. I sit on the small single bed and study my surroundings. The cell had high white walls, one plain bedside table, a wardrobe and chair. The nuns here had little necessity for much else. I waited for what seemed hours, there was nothing to do in that room but stare at the ceiling and think about what I'd done. I heard their voices before I saw them. When the door clicked open, I held my breath. Behind Mother Superior were two women, dressed inconspicuously in black. They were most certainly not nuns though. One nearest to me was maybe in her late fifties with sharp features and a shock of powder blond bob hair with a long neck and curvy waste. The other was younger, most likely in her mid thirties. She had high cheekbones and a chestnut locks that reached her shoulders and she was quite thin.

"Is this the girl?" asks the older one. Her voice is piercing, slightly upper Midwest.

"Yes, this is Ms. Warne," replies Mother Superior. She searches my face with her two hooded eyes, pursing her lips slightly.

"I don't recognize the name," she says coldly. "You're sure she's-"

"Positive," interrupts Mother Superior. Sure she's what? "Today's events have not been the only ones."

"What else has happened?" asks the younger one. She's quite stunning, her brown eyes are big like a doe's.

"About 4 years ago, the events began happening. First small but its become worse the older she's became. Things move on their own, fabrics catch fire, today a child lost her tongue… all in the presence of this girl."

The older woman smirks and sweeps her hair back with her hand. "And how do you know she's not possessed?"

The way she said it, seemed like she was patronising Mother Superior. A knowing look spreads on Mother Superior's face and her stare becomes firm. "I've looked into the eyes of evil, Blanche. This girl may be extraordinary, but she's no devil."

This Blanche woman seems to think it over, quickly studying me again before saying, "And her parents?"

"Gave her up for adoption, they couldn't care for her any longer." This seems to catch her attention and she quickly asks, "Does she have a file? I'd like to look at it."

"She does," replies Mother Superior. "It's in my office, come with me."

"Ms. Bishop, stay with her," instructs the older woman and the younger woman nods. As they walk back down the hall, Ms. Bishop closes the door behind her and smiles reassuringly at me. Why were these women here… are they the police? Investigators? Why then are meeting in a cell instead of Mother Superior's office?

"How old are you?" she asks, gently staring.

"Seventeen… my birthday was a week ago," I say and this seems to interest her.

"Oh! When was it?"

"January 26th," I reply and she nods and takes a seat on the chair across from the bed.

"So you still have a year of high school to go," she comments.

"Yes, ma'am," I say and she tuts and laughs.

"Oh, Dear please. My name is Ciel Bishop, you can just call me Ms. Bishop," she says, smiling at me. Her eyes were warm, inviting. They calmed the nerves in me a little. She grinds her teeth slightly and sighs.

"This must be quite confusing for you."

"Understatement of the year," I say, and she laughs to my surprise. I was worried I was a little too sarcastic.

"Well, when Mrs. Proctor returns, we'll be able to explain everything."

"I… I-I didn't mean to hurt her; you know that right? I didn't mean to do what I did," I ramble, hoping that she'd be able to hear the honesty in my voice. Her face falls slightly into a concerned frown and she leans in and holds my hands between hers.

"Of course, Dear. I know," she comforts me and I breath out a sigh of relief. She squeezes my hands and looks at my palms. Her smile reappears and she runs her index finger over my hand.

"You've got a short life-line," she murmurs. "But your heart line is quite strong." She says it like its something I should be proud of.

"You can read palms?" I ask, fascinated.

"Well, not as well as someone else I know, but yes, a little. If you decide to come with us, you might get to meet her."

I look up into her eyes. "If I decide to come with you?"

"Now, Ms. Bishop. You've become a little ahead of yourself!" says a sharp voice at the door. It's the Blanche woman, Mrs. Proctor I recall, with a file under her arm. Mother Superior is behind her, looking in on the strange picture.

"She was born on the 26th of January, it's her. I'm sure of it. Winona is rarely wrong," replies Ms. Bishop, and my heartbeat picks up. Who do they think I am?

"I'm well aware of that," replies Ms. Proctor, waving my file at her. "Selma and Alan did a good job at disappearing for a while, but I'm fairly sure her marker is what led to their fiery deaths."

"Blanche! A little sensitivity," cautioned Ms. Bishop, glancing at me at the corning of her eye. Who were they talking about? My birth parents gave me up, they didn't want me, and they couldn't take care of me. The way they were speaking about me made my stomach twist. I didn't like feeling invisible, especially since I was the topic at hand. They couldn't be relatives of mine; no one ever came for me.

"Oh please, it happened fifteen years ago. She most likely doesn't even know their faces."

"You're right, I don't. I have nothing of them, no photographs or memories. But it would be nice to spoken to, instead of over," I say, trying to keep in control of my voice. They both turned to me, surprised with my sudden disturbance. Mrs. Proctor purses her lips, staring down at me. I didn't break her eye contact though; I didn't want to seem weak, like I could be taken advantage of.

"This one's got some spirit in her after all," she murmurs, a small wicked smile spreading on her thin lips. She bends down, low enough that our eyes meet. "You want to spoken to, my Dear - fine. Your parents set out to protect their family, in doing so they had to change their names and last name. In our culture, its common practice to have the child's name stay the same as a marker for others to find them if something happens, let's say the passing of the child's parents. Ironically, your name, your marker led a murdering tyrant right to their door-"

"Wait, what?" I interject. "My parents gave me up, they didn't want me. Nobody said anything about foul play."

Mrs. Proctor smirks and stands up. "Your parents tried to save you, and they did. While you were safe and sound in your little bed, they were being burnt to a crisp," At that moment the file in her hand lights up, flames licking black trails into the paper. I jump back, taken by surprise. How'd she do that?

"We won't be needing this anymore," she says, throwing the sweltering file over her shoulder as it burns up into a burst of fire. The only remnants of the file are small ash particles that snow down onto the floor to Mother Superior's dismay. She looks back at me, taking in my stunned face.

"I was not sure at first, we tend not take chances but you do look an awful lot like your mother," she explains, her eyes seemed far away. "Your name is Diana Weir, your mother was Selma Weir, your father, Alan Weir. You're part of an ancient ancestry of witches, of which you are the only successor."

First I stared blankly at her, waiting for myself to wake up, now that I had realized that this was all a dream. I mean, it had to be, right? That was the only logical explanation for the words that had just left her mouth. Maybe that means Belinda still has a tongue, maybe that means I'll wake up and everything will be back to how it should be. When I didn't wake up, a panicked laugh escaped from my lungs.

"This is a joke… you're a joke," I repeated, and she frowned at me.

"I'm glad I amuse you, Diana. But this is no joke," she retorted impatiently. I glance to Ms. Bishop whose nodding her head. My eyes look to Mother Superior, the only level headed woman here.

"This can't be real." I tell her.

"I'm afraid it is, My Dear," she says, staring at me uneasily. I shake my head, trying to get my thoughts aligned somehow. This doesn't happen, not me, not in real life. There's no such thing, there's no such thing. How else could you explain what's been happening? I ask myself.  
"No, no, no this… this isn't-" I couldn't seem to get the words out. "This isn't real, magic isn't real. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts are not real. Witches are not fucking real! You guys are fucking crazy!" I hiss at them, shooting up from the bed.

"Who mentioned vampires and werewolves?" murmurs Mrs. Proctor with an amused smile.

"Diana, please!" pleads Ms. Bishop, she grabs my hand and I yank it away. "You need to calm down," but her words sound like they're being shouted down a tunnel. I couldn't be around them anymore; I had to get out of here.

"Get the hell away from me!" I warn, backing away. Mrs. Proctor rolls her eyes and grabs onto my shoulders. She turns me around and glowers at me. I can see her eyes properly now; they're hazel, cat-like and mischievous.

"Listen, bothersome little insect, this is no fairy-tale like the one you've cooked up in that head of yours," she says calmly. I try struggling out of her grasp but just like her voice, her hands stay firmly on my shoulders. "This is a matter of taking control of the gifts a long line of women so passionately fought and died to give to you. There is no magic, just a set of skills given to our kind to survive."

"What if I don't want any of it?!" I hiss back and a furious look crosses over Mrs. Proctor's face. Her lips press into a thin white line and she slaps me hard across the cheek. I drop to the floor, holding onto my burning face.

"Blanche!" shouts Mother Superior and Ms. Bishop in unison. Mrs. Proctor sweeps her hair back with her hand again and smiles coolly at them. Even when violent, she never seems to lose her cool demeanour.

"Relax, Sister," she purrs. "Have a drink."

Mother Superior gives her a look while Ms. Bishop helps me up and inspects my cheek.

"Oh she's fine. Don't baby her," mutters Mrs. Proctor, waving Ms. Bishop away from me. "Somebody had to slap some sense into that ungrateful wretch."

"I don't want these powers!" I shout at her. "I don't want to be a Freak! I don't want every person I meet to think of me as some kind of weirdo!" I ball my fists, trying to tame the feeling of wanting to hit her back. "So I'm sorry that I'm not jumping for joy!"

"And you think your self - hatred will make it go away? These powers of yours will only get stronger, Diana. You need to learn how to control them, if you don't you could kill someone," she replies coldly. "I may not be a psychologist, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who'd survive long with a guilty conscious."

"Diana, if you come with us, you'll be surrounded with women just like you," says Ms. Bishop with a sincere smile. "You'll be a lot happier and safer with us."

"I. AM. NOT. A. WITCH!" I hiss through my teeth and at that moment the chair flew across the room and hits the wall on the opposite side. Mother Superior bolts behind the door and Ms. Bishop winces on impact, all the while Mrs. Proctor stands, unflinching with a triumphant smile on her lips.

"Funny… that's exactly what a witch would do," she says, motioning to the chair. Dammit, why couldn't I control this?

The other kids stuck their head out of the rooms, watching us pass by with wide eyes. I wonder what they thought was happening to me. Mother Superior made it clear I could not stay here, and I knew if I didn't get a handle on whatever I was, I'd end up hurting someone I cared about. Seems like going with them is my only choice. Outside, a slick black sedan was waiting for us. I had never been in a car like this before. A driver got out and opened to door for us and we scooted in. When we pulled away I turn to Mrs. Proctor and ask, "Where are you taking me?"

"Mount Vernon," she replies, tapping away on her blackberry.

"That's a three hours away!" I begin to protest.

"Good," she says firmly. "Gives us time to talk."

"About what?" I ask cautiously looking from one to the other.

"Some rules you'll be needing to follow," answers Ms. Bishop. "Since you've agreed to come with us, you should be filled in. Also, there's no need to speak to us so formally any longer. We're a group of equals, please call me Ciel," she says with a smile and I can't help but feel grateful that at least she's here. She is calming in the way she speaks. Mrs. Proctor snorts and says, "You can call me Mrs. Proctor," and Ciel shoots her a withering look. She looks back at me and mouths Blanche with a wink and I try not to giggle.

"Keep in mind, these rules are enforced. We don't play around," Blanche states with a wicked smile. The way she says it makes me heart jump a little.

"Rule one-" she begins.

"Don't talk about Fight club?" I ask sarcastically and I hear Ciel snicker across from me.

"Close, but no," replies Blanche, giving me a searing look. "Never reveal yourself or the sisterhood to an apposing party. Two: Never use your powers against the sisterhood. Three: Never be the cause of another witch's death, accidental or otherwise."

"Just that?" I ask and she nods.

"Just those three," she replies lightly. "They all follow the same punishment."

"Which is what? A hex?" I joke but this time Ciel is silent.

"No," responds Blanche with a small grin. "Death."

The dark look on Ciel's face tells me she's not joking. "You mean to tell me you just kill people without going to the police? What about the law?" I demand, and Blanche laughs coolly.

"Please… we haven't practiced that punishment in years. Nobody's been stupid enough to break them," she replies, nonchalantly. "Human laws do not apply to us. Our ancestors have survived for hundreds of years because of those three rules, don't need to fix something that's not broken."

I didn't feel convinced. Maybe because I was still so stuck in the human world, I was confused at to which point society stopped and this witch business started. I couldn't just snap out of it, it was something I grew up in. I wondered if Ciel and Blanche had a human upbringing or if they always knew that they were witches. Witches… God, it felt so strange to be considering something so ethereal. What did my parents need to protect me from? What or most likely who killed them? If my mother was a witch, why couldn't she protect us?

Part of me wanted to know desperately, like I was starving for something. Another part didn't want to know a thing, just wanted to continue on with my human life and act like this never happened. I want to come out of this as unchanged as possible. I guess I'm just not ready to know what happened, or possibly I'm just not ready to hear it from Blanche. She doesn't seem to like me much anyway. The hardest thing is not knowing whether or not this is the person I want to be. It's easy to say I had a choice whether or not to come with Ciel and Blanche, but in reality, I never had an option.

This side of me, this side I was given, cannot be undone. It's in my DNA; it's in my blood.


End file.
